I stuff my phone in my jacket, put on my helmet and head over to Mitch’s in Pimlico—a far cry from Peckham. Being a bodyguard to the rich and famous sure pays off. With a few savvy investments, Mitch is now rolling in it. He has no idea I’m about to become bankrupt and he’ll never know if I can help it. Money and friends do not mix. I learned that the hard way.
It takes me almost half an hour to get there. The big block building is nothing like the old apartment blocks that blight the city. Made in a weird geometric design, the sandy coloured building screams wealth. A fountain sits in front of it and trees are dotted about the courtyard. The modern touch doesn’t do much for me but then nor does the dated design of my mother’s house.
By the time I get to his apartment, whoever was keeping him company is gone. He ushers me in and hands me an open bottle of beer. I take a drink and settle myself on the leather couch. Everything is white and shiny in Mitch’s apartment. White walls, white floor, white kitchen. He has a cleaner come in every day so it’s always spotless.
Mitch sits opposite on a large black recliner and rests his arms on his knees. He’s in a robe so I can guess how he’s spent his Sunday. I can’t help feel envious. To spend a Sunday in bed with Jess would be amazing.
Goddamn it. I doubt Mitch ever has problems like this. He goes from woman to woman with no problems. With his expensive haircut, chiselled jaw and pretty boy looks, he has no trouble keeping them sweet either.
“What’s up, Hunter? You still on a job.”
“Yeah, and I need some help.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“Are you still seeing that woman who works for Social Services?”
He shrugs. “On and off, yeah.”
“Do you think you can get some info from her?”
Mitch scowls and runs a hand through his short brown hair. “Probably. But what do you need from Social Services?”
“The girl I’m investigating was adopted by her aunt when her parents died. I want to know if she was ever checked up on. She ran away from home. There’s got to be a reason for that. I’ve not been able to find the aunt yet.”
“Name change perhaps?”
“Something like that. She was already married so it can’t be that.”
“Could have got divorced,” he suggests.
“I couldn’t find anything.”
“Give me the details and I’ll see what I can get Holly to dig up. When do you need the info by?”
“ASAP. I’m on a tight deadline. I’ve got to have this wrapped up by Friday.”
“Friday? Shit, man, Holly will definitely figure something’s up if I just start pumping her for info without a lead up. I haven’t called her in a few weeks.”
“Mitch, you’re the best at what you do and that includes women. Just do your thing and get the info.”
Mitch laughs and leans back against the black couch. “It’s a good job I love you, man. So what are you going to be doing while I’m charming the beautiful Holly?”
“I’m not sure. I need to retrace her steps. Find out exactly what she’s been doing these past couple of years.”
“What’s this about?”
“Money.”
“Isn’t it always?”
“The girl is a thief. Took a lot of money from my client.” Even as I say it, it feels wrong. But the client has to be right. Why else the dodgy past and disguises? Why pay to send me off on some wild goose chase? Jess has to have the money and I need to stop conveniently forgetting that every time I want to kiss her.
“And she’s still in the UK?”
“Yeah, weird, I know, but she seems smart this woman. Has a head for numbers and stuff. I can only guess she’s figured some way of making more money and is biding her time.”
Mitch’s brows dart up. “Sounds like you know her quite well….”
I grind my teeth, considering how much to tell him. We might be close but he doesn’t need to know how much I’m fucking my life up. “In a way.”
“And…?”
Eyes narrow, I glare at Mitch. “And nothing. I’ve talked to her, tried to get some info and that’s it.”
Mitch raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. I lean back, leather squeaking beneath me and drain the bottle of beer. He laughs.
“What?”
“That bad, huh?”
“Mitch, you have no idea…”
Chapter Five
Jess
Just after nine p.m. it happens. I’m watching crappy Sunday T.V. when I hear a shuffle. Nothing unusual about that. The walls of the apartment are paper thin and footsteps and shouting are a daily occurrence. But the hairs on my arms stand on end and I stiffen. Am I being paranoid after today? I can’t believe someone was shooting at me. Why? But the flowers and weird phone calls on top of it all are enough to set me on edge. More shuffling outside my door, then tentative footsteps. Heart in my throat, I force myself to unclench the T.V. remote and turn to face the door.